


Here There Be Trolls

by ambersagen



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Crossover, Drabble, Fae Jaskier | Dandelion, M/M, One Shot, Peter and Geralt are nonhuman as usual, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Trolls, modern crossover sort of?, slightly crackish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:14:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24037204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambersagen/pseuds/ambersagen
Summary: Up on the hillside Peter snarled loudly, and something crunched with a wet crack while the werewolf gave a satisfied shout.“Ohhh, sounds like your boy is really giving them a fight to remember,” said Jaskier, grinning broadly and then wincing as a rain of pebbles caught them unawares.“Sure, yeah.” Stiles coughed, spitting out a disgusting mix of ground. Seriously. This was the worst vacation ever.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 20
Kudos: 392





	Here There Be Trolls

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt for a drabble sent in by lionyacrowroar.tumblr so thank you very much for suggesting it! It's a little less detailed than the original prompt but I think it's fun.

“What is even the point of flying all the way to Europe if it’s exactly the same kind of fucked up as Beacon Hills?” Stiles screamed at the sky in indignant rage as he ducked yet another boulder. It hurled violently past his head, covering him in a wave of sticks and dirt as he ducked tighter against the damp edge of the small ravine he was hiding against.

“Are you telling me you don't find this to be more refined and elegant than your common American sort of scuffle?” Jaskier, who Stiles had previously found to be a refreshingly carefree and fun dude —before the trolls had interrupted the hike they had all been enjoying after running into each other at a campsite earlier that morning—seemed surprisingly blase about almost being squished or mashed into meatpaste by MOTHERFUKING POLISH MOUNTAIN TROLLS.

Up on the hillside Peter snarled loudly, and something crunched with a wet crack while the werewolf gave a satisfied shout.

“Ohhh, sounds like your boy is really giving them a fight to remember,” said Jaskier, grinning broadly and then wincing as a rain of pebbles caught them unawares.

“Sure, yeah.” Stiles coughed, spitting out a disgusting mix of ground. Seriously. This was the worst vacation ever.

It had seemed like a great idea back at the beginning of summer. Just him, whatever he could fit in a backpack, and his mother’s probably magical family journal. He cursed his past self, who had set off with stars in his eyes and dreams of a proper gap year hiking across Europe like all those lucky non-American bastards he knew online. Of course, he had put up a token argument when Peter seemed keen to invite himself along. But the wolf spoke at least seven languages and came with the promise of cash to lubricate his vacation wheels, and the possibility of taking his lust crush on the older wolf to the next step surrounded by Italian landscapes, had won past-Stiles over.

Above them the ground shook, and Geralt yelled something about going for the head. Stiles lunged forward and pulled Jaskier down by the scruff of his unreasonably large shirt collar. For fucks sake, this dude had less self preservation than he did!

“Thanks." Jaskier flashed him a smile as they huddled together that gave Stiles some real pantsfeelings- which wasn’t his fault! He spent his whole puberty on the brink of death, if he didn’t learn to have normal teenage boy reactions under pressure then he never would have had time otherwise.

And Jaskier had seemed so cool earlier that morning when this was just a pretty hike, back when Geralt wasn’t a pants shitingly scary magic monster hunter thing, and the hills weren’t front and center Downtown Trollvile.

Overhead the troll roared in pain, and Stiles found himself leaning up to take a peek, despite having just stopped Jaskier from doing the exact same thing. He sighed. It wasn't fair having to be the smart, responsible one. 

"Sounds like they're finished? I think? No more smashing at least." Jaskier didn't look even a little frightened, and Stiles figured he must be as used to this life as a dude had to be, being friends with supernatural beefcakes. At least there were no guns involved in this fight. He didn't want to know what the hunter community was like over here thank you very much. 

The crunching of boots on dirt jerked him out of his thoughts, alerting him to their friends approach. He scrambled to his feet, Jaskier in hot pursuit as they both made quick work of climbing back out of the ravine they had been taking cover in. His eyes immediately sought out Peter, years of fighting experience demanding that he stick to his pack, combined with that thrumming need to make sure his pack was all safe. .

"Did you get it?" He asked, checking Peter over for any obvious injuries. The wolf had some blood on him, but the wounds were already healing or healed, and he was mostly just filthy.

"It's dead." Geralt grunted, and Stiles gave the large man the side eye. He was also filthy, but seemed to have suffered no more damage than Peter. Which was interesting. He wondered what the man was, his hands already itching to log onto his bestiary and check what matched up with cat like yellow eyes and silver hair. He was powerful whatever he was, and also exactly what Stiles had been hoping to avoid with this trip. He didn't want any fighting on vacation damn it! 

He knew his mother's journal would most likely lead to something magical, but he had been banking on old family books or other magical artifacts. Maybe meeting some of his distant relatives. Not fighting in the dirt and woods, with grumpy mysteriously handsome men. 

"Darn it. I wanted to see the final blow!" Jaskier pouted, seemingly less concerned with the health of his party's tank than Stiles was with Peter. Which was also weird, because after just a few minutes spent in their company this morning Stiles would have sworn up and down that the pair of them were fucking. 

"Your Witcher is too good at his job. There wasn't much to see." Peter grumbled, then began coughing up dust. He must have tried to bite the troll at some point. Stiles wondered if Peter broke a nail on the rocky hide of the troll...and then Peter's words registered. Oh. That explained a lot. 

"Really? I thought Witchers were extinct?" Stiles said, half to his wolf but half to himself as he handed Peter the water bottle from his bag. "That explains the potions. I thought he might just have trouble getting it up."

"I like you," Jaskier said, giving a smirk at his friend's deepening scowl and throwing an arm over Stiles' shoulder. "Please tell me you are going to stick around. It's so rare to find others these days who are in on the whole, monsters and magics business." He gave a dramatic sigh. "Used to be everyone knew this world, and magic went hand in hand with daily life. Now we stick mostly to ourselves." He perked up, giving Stiles a shake. "But if you travel with us a bit we can really let loose! It’s been a terrible burden being the only human around for all this nonsense. I bet your wolf is just as growley as Geralt. Although I have always wondered if werewolves have any of that cuddly nature that is so often found in their canine counterparts-”

Peter choked, spluttering and dripping water all over his already ruined shirt as he made sweeping gestures at Jaskier that Stiles was pretty sure meant “what the fuck?”. Although he wasn’t sure if that was in relation to something specific the guy had said or was just a general comment on... all of him.

“What the —fuck,” Peter finally wheezed out, and Stiles gave himself a mental pat on the back. Who’s the best at reading Hale speak? He is, that's who.

Peter pointed an accusing claw at Jaskier as he pulled a handkerchief out of nowhere with his other hand. “In what universe are you human? I don’t know whether to be more offended or impressed that you think you can lie to a werewolf’s face smelling like that, but considering the trolls didn’t stink badly enough to cover up all that fairy dust you’re covered in I think I'm going to go with insulted.”

Stiles snapped his fingers in recognition. “Oh! Of course! Fairy dust totally explains your glitter aura. Thank fuck. I thought I was having some sort of intense hallucinogenic gaydar or something.”

The Witcher was giving the fae some seriously intense stink eye, and Stiles took a prudent step back behind Peter, who in turn gave him some seriously condescending side eye.

“You aren’t human.” And joy. Yet another tall, handsome and broody man who spoke questions like statements. And here he was worried he would miss Derek.

“Uhhhhh, what? Geralt please, we all just experienced quite the scare, blood pressure is running a bit high and making things seem much, ummm, worse....Geralt? Come back!” I thought you knew!"

Stiles watched curiously as the fae sprinted after the Witcher as he stomped off. He accepted the semi clean hanky Peter offered and held it out as his wolf poured the remaining water on it.

Distantly, a disgruntled “Fuck!” made the pair shake their heads.

“Did your mother’s diary happen to include any recommendations for a good restaurant?” Peter asked. “I think I’ve had enough of these woods, and the locals don’t seem too bright.”

Stiles sighed, then slowly reached up and smacked him upside the head as the wolf snickered, unrepentant.

**Author's Note:**

> No intent to continue this but I'm always around at my tumblr if you want to request something or just say hi.


End file.
